The Girl of Ice
by The Girl In The Hourglass
Summary: A tribute from 4 is chosen for the 67th Annual Hunger Games.


The Girl of Ice

The night before the reaping, the air is chilly, and it soaks through my thin tunic and pants. I am surprised. I expected it to be just a little bit colder. I stare down into the sea for a minute, the glassy surface reflecting the skyful of stars that were my only consolation before every reaping.

"Shouldn't you be at home, resting, like the rest of the young people?" I smile over my shoulder. It was a kindly old man I'd seen around before, but never actually gotten the chance to talk to. To be honest, I only knew him because of what he'd done one day when I was very small. I'd been walking through the streets of my district, District 4, when a loud commotion by the docks had caught my attention. Standing a safe distance away, I saw a big man, all black hair and blazing eyes, and muscles developed from the heavy lifting of fish crates. He had his hand twisted into the hair of a little blonde girl, who looked severely underfed, her ribs visible under a tunic two sizes too small, at least. In her hand was a small fish, one that would probably have been thrown back.

"Bloody thief! Child thieves at our dock, stealing our hard-earned fish!", he'd screamed, yanking her chin up to face him and slapping her so hard the echo rang in my ears. She'd whimpered, her eyes, soaked in tears, deep blue, and rapidly bruising, caught sight of me. I hadn't done anything about it, but was considering launching my 10 year old self at him, when out of the closest ship came the old man, who was wearing a Captain's badge. He commanded the man to put her down and claimed he'd given her the fish. The man, furious, but forced to follow orders, had complied. The girl hugged the old man's leg, and she ran off. The feelings of guilt from that day still haunt me at times, especially on the anniversary of her death, when they'd found her under a dock, frozen solid. I hadn't even helped her afterwards.

"I should be. But it's my last year, and I'm nervous." The old man approaches me, a soft smile decorating his face.

"Aren't we all?" He sits beside me, his legs dangling into the shallow tide. It was nice, being in his company, pretending it wasn't the day it really was. We sit for a half an hour, making small, polite conversation, until he stands. "You should really get some sleep.", he avises. I agree, getting up. On an impulse, I throw my arms around him. He hugs me back, before patting my shoulder and releasing me. "May the odds be ever in your favor.", he says. With no further words being spoken, we head off in opposite directions, to our own homes.

I walk through the door with a small frown on my lips. My parents are sitting at our small, square kitchen table with mugs of tea. I sit down at my side, and my mother smiles at me.

"There you are." I stare at her. They knew I went for a walk on the night before every reaping.

"Uh, yeah. I was just... you know." I shrug. A steaming mug is set in front of me and I smile gratefully. I hum a cheerful little tune, and despite the looming morning, I enjoy the time with my parents. Until my father pokes my side.

"You know, you're gonna be nineteen in only a week.", he says, grinning. I roll my eyes.

"It's not like it's any different than any of my other birthdays." This was a lie. It was severely different, but I refused to acknowledge it. My parents exchanged a look.

"We already have your present."

"So soon? I'm not going anywhere." There's a moment of awkward silence. I shake my head, standing up and going to bed.

The next morning, I'm awoken by a loud scuffle in the hallway. I bolt up, staring incredulously as my friend Rhonda bursts in, wearing her standard, government-issue swimsuit.

"Going swimming?", I ask with a wry grin. She nods, beaming cheerfully.

"Yup! And so are you!" She bursts in and grabs my hand, yanking me out of bed. Before I know it, she's advancing on me with my swimsuit and a brush. I jump onto my bed to ward her off, but it's clear she won't take no for an answer. She climbs on top of me and drags the brush through my curly black hair, pulling it into a ponytail tied with a rubber band. I shove her off and give a playful groan.

"Alright, alright, I'm coming!" She squeals excitedly and leaves the room while I change. When I come out, she grabs my hand again and drags me outside, giving a small wave to my mother, who's sitting in the kitchen and nursing a cup of coffee. My mother watches, bemused, as Rhonda drags me out into the early morning sunshine. It feels good on my shoulders, and bare legs. I follow her to the beach, giggling and waving to people, knowing we must be quite a spectacle.

"So, what made you decide to come drag me out of my house at... What time is it?"

"9:30. And because all of us had decided to go on a pre-rea ping swim." I study her. I have a feeling there's more to it than that, but let it slide. She grins, and pushes my in the water. I flail, falling into the cool water, it immediately refreshing me. I giggle. She jumps in right beside me, and we splash at each other, until our friends Kyle and Elizabeth arrive. Then they all yank me out of the water. I'm temporarily surprised, but then they pull out a small box, tied with a piece of the rare pink seaweed that they cultivate here. I stare at it.

"No... You didn't.", I spit, anger filling my tone. I glare at them accusingly. There's a moment of silence.

"This is the most times your name will be in ever again... And we wanna make sure that if you do go...", Rhonda begins.

"Not that we're saying you will!", Elizabeth interjects hastily.

"That you get your birthday present.", she finishes, eyes sparkling with unshed tears. I sigh, sitting down on the hot sand and taking the box. I open it. Inside lies a small, blue, snowflake shaped pendant on a thin silver chain.

"We ordered it from the Capitol... To make up for the presents you made for us...", Kyle says. His green eyes are staring intensely into mine, and for a minute I'm tempted to reveal my feelings for him, but then, I hesitate. What if it made it worse? Shaking my head, I stand.

"Come on, you didn't need to do that.", I say. And they didn't, which makes the gesture more worthwhile. I carefully put it back in the box and bury it, so I can be sure it's there when I come back. The tension is finally broken when I push Kyle into the water.

We mess around until noon, until it's time to go get ready for the reaping. We have to look nice, which I guess isn't a problem, but for where we're going, and why, it gets under my skin a little. When I get home, I get into the tub, cleaning the saltwater off myself with a little soap we'd gotten from the last Capitol train, and scrub my clothes. By one-thirty, I'm dressed in my new necklace, a yellow dress with two pockets, and my hair is up in a high ponytail, the curls spilling around my shoulders. My parents stare at me, my mother struggling to hold in her tears, my father's eyes full of pride. They keep telling me how pretty I look, but I avert my gaze and sit at the table.

"I'm sorry." The apology spills out of my mouth before I can stop it.

"For what, honey?", my mother says, sitting beside me.

"For last night.", I reply. "If it means a lot to you, maybe I can have my present?" They smile, and my mother goes to get it. My father grabs my hand and squeezes it gently. When she comes back with the gift, I open it. Inside is a small book with blank pages. I stare at it, confused.

"It's a small book. You can put pictures in it, or write in it, whatever you want." I beam, my whole expression lighting up.

"Thank you.", I whisper, clutching it to my chest. I grab a pen and put them both in my pockets. Maybe when the tributes were chosen I'd write about them! It'd be a good start. I hug them both tightly, then we head out the door to get to the courtyard in time.

At the courtyard, the reaping is set up as usual, lined up by age, the huge glass balls full of names. Our old representative was gone, replaced by a man dyed gold, with brown hair, streaked with the same gold as his skin. His eyes seemed to match as well. His outfit was pink and orange, clashing terribly, and incredibly lacy. I laugh, earning myself a stern look by the rest of the kids in my age group, but giggles from the younger kids. I wave at Rhonda, Kyle, and Elizabeth, and they watch. It was a wonder to them how I was able to be so cheerful all the time, but it just was my nature. I searched for the best in everyone, but at the same time, I know if someone's a bad person. I'm smart, too, or so everyone tells me. The clock chimes 2.

"In the beginning of Panem...", the mayor begins. I tune myself out. It was the same speech I'd heard every year for six years. When it's time for the actual drawing, all movement stops, and I bring myself to sharp attention. The Capitol representative, without introducing himself, or saying anything at all, really, reaches into the boys' ball. Pulling the name out, he says, in an effeminate, sweet voice, that reminds me of a mother's crooning,

"Sebastian Mitchels." A shaking brunette boy from the line of twelve year olds stands up, on shaking legs, a few tears rolling down his cheeks. His eyes are wide, and I can tell he's terrified, even moreso, I gather, then the rest of the kids. He looks over to the left. A woman, surrounded by three other children, who all look remarkably similar, starts sobbing and screaming. The boy is torn. Then a deep voice fairly yells from the back.

"I volunteer as tribute!" I look over to the voice. A seventeen year old steps through the crowd. The little boy sits back down, his crying abruptly stopped as he stares at his savior. I don't recognize him, but I clap loudly when he steps onto the stage, along with everyone else. The man nods stiffly, then reaches into the girls'. He pulls out the name, then, in his same, lilting voice, reads the next name.

"Anastasia Culler."


End file.
